


Christmas Traditions

by KatherineKrawl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Christmas, Christmas Lights, Christmas Tree, Christmas traditions, Dogs, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal is smitten, Holidays, Living Together, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Rimming, Slow Build, Snow, Will is overthinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 19:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17106431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatherineKrawl/pseuds/KatherineKrawl
Summary: After a year of running from the FBI, Will and Hannibal had finally found a place to settle down. Now that domestic peace and quiet has restored the chaos of their lives, Will wonders how to express his feelings for Hannibal, while Hannibal's ponders a new Christmas tradition for them to share.





	Christmas Traditions

Snowflakes whirled into the hallway as Will gripped the flying front door with clutching fingers, fighting to close it against the brutal, icy storm. Paws trampled past him before the heavy door fell into the lock, and wet, muddy footprints and wagging tails were left to disrupt the pristine silence of the house.

“Don't...” he started as he turned around and saw three pairs of large brown eyes stare up at him, as snow-soaked fur hung sloppily around healthy frames. Too late. Will groaned as a cold, wet spray of water splashed against his jeans and coat as all three of his dogs shook their fur out with wild, messy enthusiasm.

“Go to the scullery. Shoo,” he scolded, as he watched the happy behinds of the Italian Spinone, the senior Newfoundlander and the young Irish Wolfhound bouncing away through the living room. They knew better than to get near the kitchen.

“Great.” His boots were muddy and wet, and clumps of ice and dirt gathered on the mat as he shook them off his feet, shrugged off his coat and grimaced at the mess they had brought inside with them.

“Just great.”

He wasn't going to clean it, like he knew Hannibal would want him to. Not when he would have to go back outside in a few hours, and do it all again.

When he padded into the dining room on his socks, hair wet from the melting snow on his curls, he caught sight of something that hadn't been there that very morning during breakfast. Perched up by the tall window overlooking the frozen lake behind the house, was a large pine tree.

“A Christmas tree?” he asked bewildered, when Hannibal walked in from the kitchen, clad in his red, cashmere sweater and the gray slacks beneath his white apron. A tray with coffee and warm cartellates in his hands.

Ever since winter had settled over the valley, Hannibal had become more and more of a house cat; spending hours in the kitchen, changing the drapes, sewing covers for the armchairs and applying fresh coatings of paint to doors and ceilings. His wardrobe had shifted from pressed suits to knitwear, and it made Will's chest warm every time he saw him move around the house with a watering can or a paintbrush, his silver hair loose on his forehead and his feet in his sand-colored slippers.

“It's nearly Christmas,” Hannibal offered as he placed the tray on the table, and gestured for Will to sit in his usual seat across from him. “I thought you might want to celebrate this year.” Their eyes met briefly as they reached for their coffee cups, and Will's eyebrow shot up at the unexpected words.

Celebrate. 

Last Christmas, they had been in a dark, dirty motel room, stitched and bruised, with Will’s collarbone still broken and Hannibal’s bullet wound still pulling at him with every breath. They had left, in the middle of the night, because Jack had been closing in on them yet again. They couldn’t stay, no matter how exhausted, worn and weakened. 

Freedom, is what they had celebrated last year, but it had not been without a harsh price to pay.

This year was different. This year, their dues had been paid. Well-fed, restored, calm.

Maybe it was time for a celebration.

He gripped his cup with both hands as he sipped his dark roast with a glint in his eyes: “We could go and get some Christmas lights.”

**

Things had been difficult for a while. After their fall, they had traveled the country, the world, looking over their shoulder with every street they crossed, every corner they turned, every flight they boarded. Fifteen months, before they had found a place in the world where they could hang their hats, allow their shoulders to sag, and their eyes to be on something other than ahead, or behind them.

Each other.

There hadn't been time for anything but surviving. They had worked and moved together as fugitives, comrades, drawing closer and pushing apart like the drumming of a pumping heart. They had needed each other, despite the pain that marked their past.

Nothing of intimacy had been expressed through words or touch since that embrace on the cliff, and the distant sirens growing closer as they moved away from the beach.

Now, they had found a home in the silent valley by the widely stretched lake, and the literal need for each other’s shoulders and body heat had faded out. 

Without a word wasted, they had both moved into their secluded house of wood and glass, and into their own, separate bedrooms. 

But the high waves had calmed to a gentle stream, and Will knew both their eyes kept wandering, as fingers lingered, reaching for coffee cups. Their heartbeats had slowed to a steady, sensual roll that made room for new needs, new awareness. Longing to build on steady, gentle grounds.

The fear, the panic and the pain had subsided, and it had brought room for longing, desiring... wondering.

Hannibal loved him, Will was no fool. And his feelings for Hannibal... they were becoming more and more detectable through the hot ball of blazing lava he carried inside ever since the spark was first ignited. 

In an office, a long, long time ago.

There were memories, and heat, spite and need.

There was a sharp scrape of past resentment, and a sprouting seed of romance. 

**

That night at dinner Hannibal asked him the question: 

“Do you have any Christmas traditions you'd like to honor?”

They had been eating in the glowing light of the lit Christmas tree. Hannibal had opted for real candles, and Will had scoffed before lecturing him on fire hazards and pets. The drive to the nearest city was close to an hour, but when they had returned, the dining room had become festively illuminated with a festive glow of electrical lights.

Will cut into his guinea fowl, and looked up into Hannibal's eyes watching him over his glass of red wine. “As a child, me and my father would eat the fish we would catch ice fishing that day, with some potatoes and carrots,” he said, a small smile jerking on his lips at the memories. It had been the two of them for so long, and even though they had never quite understood each other, his father had taken care of him the best he could. No warmth, no trinkets, but he had always had a place to sleep. A roof over his head, food on the table.

“In the years after that, mulled wine and scotch,” he added with a chuckle, thinking of the time beyond his father. His Christmas dinners in Wolftrap had been little more than that.

Hannibal sipped his wine, eyes on the perfectly ironed table cloth. “And with your wife?” he asked, bringing the words out with perfect control on his even tone. Something hid beneath, and Will knew Hannibal wanted him to hear it. 

Something was sore. Sensitive.

Will smiled crooked lips, as he brought his fork to his mouth and crossed eyes with Hannibal. “It's not wise to put up a tree in a house with that many strays running around,” he said, and watched Hannibal's lips twitch with flat acknowledgment. No, there had never been a tree, or stockings, presents. Molly had always lived a sober life, and he had found the style comfortable. Familiar. Nothing lavish, like Hannibal’s way of living. Nothing extra. Nothing more than what they needed.

There were months when they housed ten dogs, untrained and traumatized, and even little things like slippers or newspapers had not been safe from playful teeth and digging paws, let alone a Christmas tree with baubles and lights.

“Molly cooked goose,” he said, remembering the two Christmases they had actually spent together. She had come home with a goose, stuffed it, and cooked it in the oven until it was nearly black on the outside, and lukewarm on the inside. 

Will huffed, as he swallowed his mouthful of tender meat. “She cooked with enthusiasm, rather than skill,” he said airily, as he cleaned his plate to the last drop of sauce. Then, he flashed daring eyes across the table, teasingly adding: “But at least she didn’t drown the meal in theater.”

A flash of a sharp smile crossed Hannibal’s features as he watched Will take a sip of his wine. “Call it whatever you wish, dear Will,” he said, taking the bait for teasing banter, while his eyes slid down to the working of Will’s throat. “But I consider _theater_ the purest art-form for worshiping life, love and death.”

His voice was proud and gentle, and Will felt his chest flutter at the amused, but hooded gaze Hannibal was sliding up his throat, back to his ocean eyes. “Without it, are we not simply animals?”

Such an eloquent jab. Perhaps the most eloquent one Will had ever heard, considering Hannibal was doing little else than referring to his ex-wife as a cow.

_Bastard._

It wasn't a competition. The notion alone that it might be was either laughable or sickening, but Will knew very well that Hannibal's endless powerful exterior was part of the mask, the veil. He too, longed for something all of humanity needed.

Confirmation. Appreciation. Validation.

He sighed, smiled, as he leaned back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest: “Before you lower yourself to any further pettiness, let me tell you this...” he said, answering the glint that danced in Hannibal's eyes. 

He lifted his chin, lips twitching over his teeth. 

“I happen to enjoy the theater.”

**

When Will walked into his bedroom two days before Christmas, he blinked confusedly at the large pile of laundry outside his door. His bedding, his clothing, even the curtains were stripped and taken down.

Peeking past the crack of the door, he witnessed Hannibal carrying arms full of his towels. The towels were unused, and yet they were dropped unceremoniously onto the floor with the other items.

“You don’t have to...” he stuttered, as he caught a glimpse of his entire underwear collection beneath the curtains. “What are you doing?” 

He watched Hannibal take out the already half-filled laundry basket to stuff the rest on top. “I’m cleaning,” he answered him patiently, and Will clacked his tongue at the response. Golden eyes shot up to meet his, and Will saw strenuously flushed cheeks and silver hair coming undone from a styled coif. Dark slacks, white shirt sleeves, rolled up to the elbows.

He looked so soft and serene, embodying the domestic houseman. The sweaters, the untidy hair… as if there wasn’t a howling demon beneath the surface of that tanned skin.

“Everything?” he asked, quickly lowering his eyes back to the piled laundry. He had seen Hannibal scrubbing the kitchen, washing every piece of silver, glass and porcelain with his bare hands. He had vacuumed every corner, soaped up every window... and now this.

“It’s nearly Christmas,” Hannibal said, lips curving to a smile as he piled the towels in the basket. Will never understood the joy the man received by polishing shoes and folding laundry, but the perfect order brought unmistakable pleasure to Hannibal’s face, and the sight was enough to make Will’s stomach clench and flutter with affection.

“This, is a Christmas tradition from my ancestors,” Hannibal explained, as he lifted the basket to meet Will's eyes with the gentle honey of his own. The answer was unexpected, and Will frowned at the explanation.

“A Lithuanian tradition?” he asked. Hannibal did not speak of his past and his heritage often, but when he did, his voice would grow warmer, as his accent twisted thicker around each word.

Hannibal’s eyes glazed over. Remembering. “My mother used to scrub every inch of the house, including myself and my sister, before the eve of Christmas,” he said, smiling as he rubbed his palms together. “Her hands would be raw and her knees blue with effort.”

Will sighed gently at the way Hannibal smiled, expressing a loving sympathy for the memory of his mother. A long, lost time, honored.

Then, Hannibal hoisted up the laundry basket with a push of his knee, and wrapped his arms around the width. “We believe it helps to protect from evil and sickness during the coming year,” he explained.

Their eyes met, and Will watched Hannibal’s open gaze on him. There was a tenderness that had always been there, but Will had been unable to acknowledge or understand before they had found their place between the lake and the mountains. Hannibal had never stopped watching him with love so willingly shown, but Will's previous fear of what was behind them, before them, inside them and above them had strangled him, quartered him…

There had been room for little else.

Now, by the lake and the woods in their quiet home, he had settled back into himself, and Will dared to stare back into the eyes of honey and blood and feel the clenching of his chest. Love had grown from the spark of laughter and understanding, occurring over breakfast shared in a hotel. 

Will had never denied those feelings to himself, but he had always refused to place them, give them room for growth, name them and allow them outside of his mind.

“Well, that's practical, if anything,” was all he could think to say, offering Hannibal a sheepish smile.

Hannibal readjusted the wicker basket in his grip, as he tilted his head: “It is, both metaphorically and literally. Proper hygiene does make for a healthier, safer home.”

Will smiled, and felt Hannibal’s eyes deepen on him with a raw sense of devotion and delight. A silent note of passion.

It had been like this for a while. The man had never tried to coax Will into more than how their lives were organized today. He seemed content, as if asking for more would be a jinx on their happiness. Hannibal had settled, gratefully, into their new lives, despite desiring something he might never receive.

Or, did he still...?

Did Hannibal still _desire_ him?

Or was Will as emotionally colorblind as he’d always feigned to be?

“I was going to take a shower...” Will spoke distractedly, feeling his cheeks flush as he rubbed his neck with a lost hand. Eager to step off the path his mind was walking. The reminder of his insecurities, and his own hidden desires.

Hannibal nodded to the towels on top of the pile. “Take my room. My towels are already washed,” he offered, and with a quick nod and a thank you, Will passed him to the other side of the hallway. Quick to get away from eyes that cracked his skull open like a coconut shell. 

Figuratively, this time. 

Hannibal wasn’t allowed to figure out what he, himself, had yet to understand.

**

The shower was hot like a lover’s embrace. Will closed his eyes under the stream and tilted his head back as he tried to rid himself of all the loose ends inside his mind. Ends that wished to curl around Hannibal, but were hesitant where to look for footing.

If Hannibal’s feelings were aligned with his... Will wanted things to progress. He just wasn't sure where to begin.

When he padded out the door with only one of Hannibal’s towels around his waist, he was startled to find Hannibal in the bedroom, unbuttoning and shedding his shirt off of his shoulders and revealing the bare, tanned skin of his back and chest.

“Oh.”

The shirt disappeared into the hamper, before Hannibal turned to look at Will, who stood nearly naked and dripping on his parquet floor. Will felt the heat return to his cheeks, but this time, he could blame the hot water. 

“I...”

Will's wet hair framed his face, and the droplets traveled down the skin of his sternum. Hannibal’s eyes did not lower to follow them, but he did look back at him with a hard, fixed gaze. The decision to keep his eyes from wandering was a conscious one. For Will’s benefit, perhaps. Or for his own.

Or maybe, Will was reading too much into it altogether. Maybe Hannibal just wasn’t that interested.

“Do I have any clothes left?” he asked, aiming for airily. His own eyes shifted nervously to and from Hannibal’s broad chest with soft, silver hair that traveled over his stomach, and disappeared into his waistband.

This was ridiculous. They had seen each other in various states of undress more times than he could count. They had changed each others' bandages, bathed each other when they had no strength left to do it themselves…

But back then, everything had been pain, a fight, a struggle, to survive.

Not anymore.

“Take mine,” Hannibal said, gesturing to his closet where a pile of knitted sweaters were neatly stacked. Will huffed at Hannibal’s determination to have everything washed to the very last sock, and took a navy blue sweater from the pile. He opted for the expensive silk, maroon pajama bottoms, as Hannibal did not own a single pair of jeans, or sweats.

“I’ll take your towel,” Hannibal said, as he reached out an arm before turning to the hamper, pretending to observe the contents with interest. 

He was giving Will privacy to get dressed, and yet… he was still in the room.

Interest or indifference... both options raced through Will’s mind as he undid the towel from around his waist.

He dressed himself, hoisting up the bottoms and pulling the sweater over his wet head, as Hannibal was sorting items by color, material, thread count or whatever it was he was looking for. The legs covered his feet. The sleeves brushed his knuckles.

“A little big for you,” Hannibal said as he came to stand beside him and started pulling at the material for a proper fit, “but you look very...”

Will caught the joy that sparkled in Hannibal’s eyes as his fingers fixed the collar, and he felt his own heartbeat speeding, his breathing deepening.

“Festive.”

**

They walked together every day between lunch and dinner. Snow crackled under boots, as they chatted and watched the dogs run ahead of them. Oliver, Mayhem and Burt. 

They would walk the curves of the lake until the winter sun would start to set, shoulder brushing shoulder, as they listened to the birds, the splashing of the ducks and fish, the silent force of mother nature.

Conversation would be about the little things, first and foremost, but more and more often, personal topics were breached, braved, like they had back in Hannibal's office. As if time had, indeed, reversed.

Today, Will kicked a small rock with his boot as he dug his gloved hands into the pockets of his wool coat and asked: “Did you create a Christmas tradition of your own, after the life with your family?”

Will knew Hannibal well. A family tradition was kept in good humor, good memories. But the man stamped himself on whatever came into his life, and he surely must have made any holiday exceptional. A tree decorated with bird skulls, or a visit to a church, watching and observing sinners pray for forgiveness as he mockingly looked up at God.

Instead, Hannibal pressed his lips together and said: “I save a special name in the deck, every year.”

Will caught his eyes with a sideways glance and exhaled through his nose. There was that, of course. He could have known. He should have known.

In honesty, he had known. Without ever giving it a moment's thought, the idea had already settled in his mind like a given truth.

Hannibal didn’t go out to laugh at God. Not when he could become God instead.

“Which one?” he asked as their arms rubbed together through the wool and brightened their frostbitten cheeks with warmth. Ahead of them, Burt sniffed a trail into the bushes.

Hannibal hummed. “The one that works up my appetite the most,” he replied, a little teasing tone to the misty haze inside his voice, before his fingers reached up and curled inside the crook of Will’s elbow. A tingling sensation started working up Will’s toes, to his calves, as he kept his eyes ahead on the road.

“I wish to create a new tradition,” Hannibal said, fingertips resting against the fabric of Will’s navy blue coat with enough pressure for him to feel the touch through the wool.

They walked like this more often these days, and their footsteps fell in line effortlessly in the snow. Contact that lingered more and more often. Purposeful.

“One that is just ours.”

The words tore through Will’s awareness, as he pulled his eyes from the bouncing, tracking dogs, and met Hannibal with careful surprise. 

They stayed on the gold, framed by icy snow.

Hannibal’s fingers flexed on his arm, his voice a quiver in the cold air where their breaths met as puffy clouds. “For many years to come.” 

Hannibal's cheekbones tinged pink in the frosted air, and ocean eyes met golden honey, melting together in a warm and cold whirl of color. Will watched him, and felt the undeniable pull that had hidden just behind his belly button as the tingling sensation moved up the back of his legs, and arched his back.

He had always fought the urge to step closer, because he had been frightened of where that step would bring him. Now, his eyes flickered to Hannibal’s soft-looking lips, and wondered if they would feel warm against his cold ones.

Hannibal had spoken words like 'ours', 'many years'. 

Will had heard their meaning: forever. Together.

With so few words, he had made one thing very clear to Will. Indifferent, he was not.

Hannibal’s eyes noticed the direction of his gaze, because his own landed equally lost on Will’s parted lips. Their pace slowed, their attention for the world collapsed on the sudden warmth surrounding them, and right here, now, things could change for them. Things could change forever. 

The world could be a different place.

He felt Hannibal going still beside him, eyes on lips, as Will started to inch forward with a restless flutter of his lashes.

Maybe...

Wild barking broke the spell.

Mayhem had spotted a rabbit between the trees, and was taking off with impressive speed for a dog with only one hind leg. Damnit.

Will whistled on his fingers, as golden brown fur zigzagged away through the trees. The pound had wanted to put him down as the bear-trap had gnawed through flesh and bone, but Will had taken him home the moment he laid eyes on the frightened animal.

Today, the frightened animal was full of life, followed swiftly by his brothers, and became that bear trap to an innocent rabbit. The way life circled 'round.

He whistled again, and the dogs came running back. No rabbit. Those were hard to outrun when in good health. 

“What do you have in mind?” he broke a moment of pregnant silence with a wavering voice, as their feet starting moving forward, and his eyes plummeted to his feet. Hannibal’s touch on his arm did not loosen, but he, too, looked ahead of him at the dogs and the snow and the wild, naked trees.

“I had hoped for your input,” he confessed, and Will scrunched his nose when a snowflake landed on the tip. It was time to head home. Heavy weather presented itself in the darker clouds ahead.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, blood spreading through his cheeks.

In his mind, he already knew what it would be.

 

**

“So, who is this year’s Christmas turkey?” Will asked in good spirit, as he carved into the perfectly seasoned and cooked meat on his plate. A thigh. And served along with it were cranberries, roasted vegetables and oven baked potatoes. It was Christmas eve, and lit by the tree and the candles on the table, they had toasted their wine to a fulfilling year of good health and fortune. To answers to questions that haunted them, still. 

“Simon Moser,” Hannibal answered him, and Will’s lips jerked despite himself. The car salesman, of course. That man had tried to sell them the biggest piece of junk on flat wheels available, and he had been downright irritated when Will had the audacity to question the rusty cylinders. The moment the man had asked Will: “do you think you know better than me, boy?” Will had known he wouldn’t live to see the end of the year. Hannibal had not disappointed.

“Impressive,” he said, as he brought the thin slice of roast to his mouth. The man had been large, strong. Not particularly clever, but certainly no fool. Not one to easily lure. But Hannibal had outdone himself for the feast, and the taste was perfection. 

And the idea… was not one that bothered Will like it used to. Or maybe like he had expected it to.

It was a perfect Christmas dinner. The very first one that they could share.

“I had hoped we could provide next year's meal together,” Hannibal spoke pleasantly, his cutlery already down on his empty plate. Will dabbed the corner of his lips with his folded napkin.

“This is _your_ Christmas tradition,” he said, fixing Hannibal with a pointed look. “Not mine.”

Hannibal had wanted the new tradition to be something that was theirs, and despite knowing the hunts would become something they would share more and more often as time passed, the direction of what he pictured their new Christmas tradition to be, was a different one.

One that made his head light, and his palms sweat.

They watched each other from across the table. Wine glass in hands, flickering flames between them, and Will felt the bright tingling sensation blossom in his gut, up the wings of his shoulders, and cupping the curve of his jaw. 

They could sit like this forever, and he would be more than content.

But not beyond. There was more to desire.

“So what will it be?” Hannibal asked him, as he folded the napkin that had been spread out on his lap. Etiquette only. Hannibal never dropped a crumb.

Will licked his lips, nerves coiling up his spine and pinching in his chest. His eyes dropped to his plate, still red with sauce and blood and cranberries.

“After dinner, we could sit in front of the fireplace,” he started, swallowing against the reminder of the wine in his throat. “We could drink our most expensive Scotch, talk about how we ended up here...” He felt his ears sting with the pushing blood in his veins.

His eyes flashed up, and watched Hannibal’s still, but curious expression digging into him. There was an edge around the softness, and Will knew that he was caught in the same stream that had always pushed them together. 

“And you could kiss me,” he heard himself say, fragile but clear, as if someone else had said it for him. He had wanted to ponder the choice of words on his tongue, but his mind had decided that time was up, and it needed out.

And now, his thoughts were on the table. He had vocalized what had been brewing for a long, long time. 

Before the Dragon, after the Dragon,…

He looked at Hannibal, motionless across from him. Eyes swimming in the candlelight, skin glowing gold, and pupils pushed wide. He remained still, silent, and Will could feel the rushing blood thrumming restless in his ears.

Had he read this all wrong?

“Or we could... play chess...” he pushed out with an uneasy chuckle as his neck burned hot, and his temples grew damp. He quickly lowered his eyes back to the used plate, as panic clawed up his throat. Had he been that much of a blind fool? 

Before he could exhale the breath that was now blocking his windpipe, however, Hannibal replied with careful words that drifted on an involuntary gasp.

“Chess is much more an activity for a dreary afternoon,” he answered, and Will’s eyes shot back up without a moment's pause, rapidly blinking his lashes. Hannibal was watching him, full of wonder, and obvious, undeniable heat.

Will's relief was instant, as was his own, answering need.

“So kiss me,” he breathed, as his face turned bright with desire rather than shame. He pushed his chair back with his legs, and watched Hannibal do the same.

“Will,” Hannibal said, as he slowly rose from his chair with his hands on the table. His eyes were smoldering like glowing coals, and Will could feel it twist something hot behind his pelvis.

“I want you to,” he urged, rising from his own chair as he held on to the rim of the table. “Can we finally stop pretending this isn’t what we came here for?”

Something powerful lashed behind Hannibal’s eyes, burning flames and glittering gold. Pleasure.

Will swallowed, as he started following the line of the table to the side. “How about we skip that talk, the Scotch...” he trailed, as Hannibal followed him to the head of the table. They met, eye to eye, by the kind light of the Christmas tree.

“Dessert...” Hannibal added breathlessly, and Will inhaled shakily at the sudden nearness. He could feel Hannibal’s warmth, see every line in his face, and nearly whimpered when Hannibal’s hand came to cup his cheek.

Yes.

“You... put a lot of effort into that,” he was polite enough to comment, closing his eyes when Hannibal’s thumb stroked along his cheekbone. He melted into the simple caress, like a lonely stray on the cold, empty streets.

He hadn’t been lonely. He hadn’t been cold. 

But what he _had_ been all along, was in love.

“It will still be there in the morning.”

Hannibal hummed, and Will’s eyes flashed back open to meet him in full. Simple words, that carried a message so loaded with intent. Morning was many hours away.

Hannibal watched Will’s eyes grow large, and pulled back the fingers that framed Will’s cheek. “I apologize,” he said. “I didn’t mean to imply...” The little smile diminished his perfect manners, and Will felt his chest expanding at the sight. Hannibal knew perfectly well what was on the table. Hannibal knew perfectly well what it was Will wanted.

“Give me everything,” Will demanded with a breathy whisper, fire in his eyes as his fingers hooked into the maroon jacket that wrapped around Hannibal’s chest. He could feel the fluttering heartbeat, and the rapid way his lungs expanded behind his ribs.

“It's already yours.” Hannibal replied huskily, leaning closer in until Will could smell the herbs and cologne on his skin. The wine on his lips.

“Kiss me,” Will wanted to bite the command, to punish Hannibal for the way he was lingering, but instead the words were a whimper, a needful moan that he couldn’t suppress. They were both strong in their emotions. Weak in their desires. 

Hannibal dipped his head, and at last his soft lips came to press against Will’s with an exploring, tender slide. It was intimate, much more so then he could have predicted, and Will held on to the lapels of Hannibal’s jacket to keep himself steady on his trembling legs.

There was no comparison he could make to this moment. It was intense, weakening and beautiful it the way the world around them died away with no room but for the two of them.

Wet and soft, open lips and grabbing fingers danced and touched and grasped, as Will allowed Hannibal’s tongue to lick along his bottom lip, moving further into his mouth. He moaned, opening under Hannibal's lips that lead his own into a soft slide, as his hands slid through soft, silver hair. It was tender, but deep with devotion. An introduction to a new world.

Hannibal held his face in both his hands when he pulled back, and smiled that barely-there smile that Will could understand better than anyone else. Happy. Gloriously happy.

_God._

Will felt his own belly pulse with a clawing need, arousal, as he allowed Hannibal to walk him backwards to the reading room. The room with the harpsichord and the thick rug. The room with the fireplace, lit with dancing flames throwing shadows along the walls and ceiling.

He had asked for a kiss in front of the fireplace. 

A kiss he would get.

Their lips met again, more heated this time, as Hannibal’s jacket found its way to the floor. Large hands pulled on Will’s curls as their open mouths collided, and gasped noises of passion filled the room. They allowed their hands to slide, and their tongues to explore. Low grunts, high moans and desperate whimpers…

“Is this what we came here for, Will?” Hannibal asked him between feverish kisses, as his fingers worked on the buttons of Will’s shirt. The question came too late for a sensible answer, but Hannibal knew what the answer would be, either way.

“Yes. Fuck, please, yes.” 

Even if his version would be a bit more... eloquent.

Will almost mewled when his greedy fingers ripped past buttons, and Hannibal’s bare chest was revealed. He reached to finally run his hands through the soft hair that traveled down, and watched his fingers tremble as he grazed warm skin. After the many times of seeing Hannibal without clothing, he had never been able to stop wondering about the feeling of that warm chest hair between his fingers. 

It was pure, beautiful heaven. 

When he tightened the hair between his knuckles, Hannibal groaned into his mouth before pushing Will back into one of the armchairs.

God, yes.

Will’s belt was undone as Hannibal came to kneel before him on the rug, and started kissing down from his lips to his neck, along the lines of Will’s heaving chest. A moan pressed between Will’s teeth, as Hannibal’s lips teased over peaked nipples, the curve of his ribs, while his hand blindly opened Will’s fly.

“Oh God.”

Down his belly, a hint of teeth, and before Will could properly hold on to the armrests, Hannibal had taken Will's hard cock from his pants, exposing him to the open air. 

_Fuck._

He was dripping, glistening in the light of the fire, and hard like a teenage boy with his first crush.

“Oh, Jesus.”

Hannibal’s fingers touched the shaft, the head, down to his tightened balls and back up again, as he pulled Will’s pants to the floor, leaving him completely naked on the velvet chair.

Hannibal knew Will’s body, and there was so much familiarity. But never had they touched like this before. Will couldn’t help but wonder how many times Hannibal had trailed this path with his mouth and hands inside his own mind.

“Everything?” Hannibal repeated hoarsely, referring to Will’s previous statement as his hand squeezed lightly around the girth of Will’s cock. Whimpering, Will's hands came to grasp the silver strands of Hannibal's hair.

“Y-yes. Everything,” he all but pleaded.

Will's thighs trembled with bewildered impatience, as he watched Hannibal on his knees before him, looking up with those golden, fiery eyes and pink, parted lips. 

“I’ve dreamed of tasting you,” he spoke, feverishly mesmerizing, and Will felt his skin breaking out into goosebumps at the words, the sight, as the moist head of his cock twitched against his skin. A drop of clear fluid pushed between the slit of the spongy flesh.

“Everything,” Will choked as Hannibal kept his eyes on him, and slowly opened his lips around the head of Will’s cock. 

_God. Fuck._

He gasped when Hannibal opened his mouth further and deeper around the width, pushing over the glistening skin of the hard shaft. “Fuck,” Will's breath stuttered violently as he fisted his hands tighter in the silver blond hair. Hannibal was not one for profanities, he knew, but it wasn’t his fault that his vocabulary was reduced to five words when Hannibal looked up at him through his lashes, his cock tight inside his warm mouth.

Hannibal’s eyes were lit like the sun over still water on an early spring morning, as he slid his tongue under the head of Will’s cock, and pressed himself closer around the hot flesh. There was a hum of pleasure in the back of his throat vibrating against Will’s skin, making him pant heavily through his nose as Hannibal stretched his jaw over him. 

“Hannibal.”

Will watched the saliva trickling from the corner of his mouth, and his belly felt weak with a crippling need to push in further. God, he could curse himself for denying them this for so long, when everything around him finally fell into its proper place. Frighteningly, beautifully so.

Of course they had needed this. Of course, they belonged like this.

Will’s breath hitched with a sharp wheeze when Hannibal sucked his mouth around him, and his belly spasmed as his eyes glued themselves to the view. He had expected devotion, but the enthusiasm Hannibal displayed as he took him in deeper, sucked his cheeks hollow and cupped his balls with a rolling palm… that was more he had dared to dream. 

He knew Hannibal in so many ways. All of them intimate, in their own right. But the physical, sexual side of him was something he could only have imagined until now. And imagine it, he had. Inside his mind, Hannibal had varied from a more reserved lover, more conservative with his attention and pleasure, to a violent one, without patience or joy. Even an overbearing, controlling lover had sprung to mind.

He was intense, just like he was in every other aspect in life. In every aspect of his personality. What surprised Will now, however, was the easy, comfortable pleasure that Hannibal exuded as he sat before Will, knees on the floor. The way his eyes played with him as he shot sparks of ecstasy up Will’s body, as his eyelids fluttered with the pleasure of giving.

And Will fell in love with him, yet another time. It wouldn’t be the last time, but it would always be a moment etched inside his mind.

Hands on his hips pulled him further down on the chair, as Hannibal lifted his balls, exposing him and smoothing his thumb over the clenched hole. 

Blown eyes asked silently for permission, as Will quivered at the change of direction. 

_God. God, yes._

He had never done anything like this in his life, but the firm throbbing of his cock and the leap of his pounding heart was a conformation that his body was ready, and his mind followed suit. He wanted everything.

Every touch, every taste, every inch.

“Yes,” he gasped, and watched Hannibal’s eyes widen with aroused confirmation, as he moved his lips lips back to Will’s cock. Trailing kisses from the swollen head, all the way back to the ring of muscles. Tasting him, in every way. 

“Oooh,” Will spasmed with a cry when a hot tongue lapped at his opening. It was odd, mad, hot, wet and wonderful. His knees quivered and buckled as he pushed himself firmer against Hannibal's face, cursing loudly against the back of his own hand when Hannibal’s tongue coaxed him open.

He had to clench his fingers into the armchair to keep himself from bucking up, as Hannibal licked and probed him with patience that borderlined on cruelty. Then, warning Will with his eyes and pouring a small dollop of lubricant on his hand, he pushed one long finger into his ass.

Had Hannibal carried the bottle with him, or had he already stored it here before tonight?

Those questions were ones Will would never ask himself, because nothing, nothing had ever felt like this. “Ahhhh.” No, nothing had ever felt like Hannibal rubbing teasingly against his needy prostate as he opened him up, stretching and caressing. 

Hannibal was careful, mindful of Will’s virgin state, but his breaths were shallow where his eyes were savoring. He too, had fantasized of this moment. Will keened, as nails dug into the velvet of the armchair. It was too much, not enough, full and hot like liquid fire.

He groaned and pushed back daringly against Hannibal's face and hand, welcoming the fingers on his prostate as Hannibal hummed blissfully against Will's quivering hole, where his tongue pushed in beside his stroking finger. 

_Never_ had he even _imagined_ anything to feel like this. 

“Oh, God.”

Hannibal pushed in a second finger, slick, lubricated, and Will felt the sensation in his cock, his ass and his abdomen, where pinpricks of pleasure and heat wound tight around his upper thighs. He rocked his hips, searching for more friction, as Hannibal hummed a heated moan into his skin.

A third finger slid inside, as Hannibal’s free hand traveled between Will's legs and wrapped around his cock, pumping his erection with a loose grip.

“Yes, yes.”

The tightening pleasure was everywhere, clawing and gripping and building to an unbearable pressure in his belly. 

_Fuck._

No, no, not yet.

“Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s touch paused, and Will watched his open lips go slack against his opening as he looked up at him with those pleasure-hazed eyes. 

“No,” Will heard himself moan with a voice pathetic with need, as Hannibal looked at him with glorious wonder.

Will sat up with trembling knees framing Hannibal’s face as he reached for him with his hands. “I want you,” he pleaded, and felt the wind knocked out of him when Hannibal lunged forward to bring them together in a passionate kiss. 

Will fell to his knees on the floor as they kissed, embraced, tasting himself in a way he had never expected to arouse him like this. He moved to find ways to press their skin even closer before he ended up on his back on the rug, with Hannibal between his bare thighs. 

“Yes. Yes,” he panted, both his unsteady hands working on Hannibal’s buttons and fly, as Will’s feet pushed the fabric over the swell over his ass. Hannibal hissed against the tender skin of Will’s neck when their hard cocks touched between them, as Will tightened his knees against his sides, and arched into the body that covered him. 

They slid together; Hannibal thick, long and red, Will dripping and an angry purple. And, fuck, it was maddeningly beautiful. This was close. This was perfect. Hannibal moaned with abandon as he rolled his hips against Will, planting frantic kisses to his mouth.

This, was right.

The bottle of lube was in Hannibal’s clenched hand, and Will drew his knees up even higher at the sight. He knew exactly what this should be. He knew exactly what he wanted.

“Please,” he panted, wet and wild as he clung to Hannibal’s back with all four limbs. “Make love to me.”

Hannibal groaned with ecstatic, heated desperation, as his lips returned to nip at Will’s. “I have dreamed of those words, whispered by your lips,” he confessed with a quiver, before sucking on the pulse-point of Will’s throat with eager lips.

“Yes. God, yes,” Will encouraged, writhing beneath him and moaning at the loss when Hannibal pulled back to pour a generous amount of lube on his own palm.

This was it.

Will watched the large, hard cock between Hannibal’s legs and swallowed against his nerves. 

“I-I want you to,” he stuttered, before reaching to dip his own fingers in the lubrication, and running them along the red, needy head of Hannibal’s erection. The weight, the texture, the heat was something he'd never experienced before on another man, and aroused curiosity stirred in his belly. It was powerful. 

It was Hannibal.

Hannibal growled breathlessly at the touch, as Will stroked him up and down with exploring hands. Hesitant at first, but encouraged by the way Hannibal’s thighs shook, and his stomach quivered. “Will,” he broke, before taking the fingers off his skin and pressing them to his own lips with devotion. 

Then, he positioned himself back between Will’s legs, kissing up his sternum to his mouth, as Will groaned at the sound of his own name, spoken from the pit of Hannibal’s being, before he felt himself being breached by the large head of his cock. 

“Yes, please yes.”

The intrusion was a large stretch inside his tight body. There was pain, a burn, but the fill was simultaneously a glorious completion. Hannibal panted hotly against his skin as words and sounds rumbled breathlessly from his tongue, and Will surrendered, going slack and throwing back his head to push himself even closer against Hannibal’s body. 

Hannibal thrust slowly into him, instantly lost in the velvet squeeze of Will's tight, virgin body. Their eyes were deep and clouded on the other, as Hannibal pushed his pulsing cock inside Will's burning body, that gripped him so tight he paused with every inch in. And Will felt him, from his tail bone to the base of his skull. Hot burning bliss.

Their eyes stayed connected as they felt each other everywhere, in and out, and fell and rose like the waves of a summer’s ocean. Hannibal's cock nudged inside his heat as they panted mouth against mouth, breathing each other's air and nipping at lips.

Will crossed his ankles on Hannibal’s back when his body stopped fighting the intrusion, and became pliant around the thrusting cock inside him. Hannibal's nose pushed against his throat as he deeply inhaled Will's scent, as their connection grew deeper and their moans grew louder.

It burned like only pleasure could, and the sensation was full and hot and endlessly heaven as Will’s cock rubbed against Hannibal’s belly with every stroke. It was everything, a waterfall of all that was between them and pleasure rained upon them with the collision of minds and bodies – chest to chest, eye to eye. They had made themselves a home inside the other, in every way imaginable. It was their completion.

Hannibal leaned down to kiss his lips, his chin, the skin of his throat, as his cock moved deeper, more confidently inside Will, who felt full, pulsing like an open vein as he rolled his hips down against Hannibal's pelvis to ensure he had it all.

“Will,” Hannibal croaked above him, with eyes that were so lost, in awe, overwhelmed. The sight made Will gasp before he pulled him down for a desperate kiss as he buckled up against Hannibal, forcing him to speed up the rhythm. 

Will needed him closer, closer still. He wanted to carve Hannibal out for all he was worth, and crawl behind his ribs to rest his ear against his beating heart.

“Please...”

He let his hands run up across Hannibal's rocking belly with searching fingers, just as Hannibal hit that little spot inside of him with hard, dead-on precision. “FUCK.” And in that moment, Will was weightless, falling backwards into unforgiving pleasure. 

Hannibal pulled back before hitting his prostate with the same force and speed, as Will’s eyes rolled blind and his hands clawed at Hannibal’s shoulders.

Again, and again.

It wasn’t before long that Will was reduced to a weeping, whimpering mess, pulling at Hannibal’s hair and rocking back against the rolls of their united bodies. Will was lost in the sound of Hannibal grunting in his ear, as his cock thrust wet and heavy against the hair of Hannibal’s belly. He was crying out, groping at Hannibal's arms and chest as his prostate was pounded into wild heaven by the one he had denied himself for so long. 

The only one he wanted.

Hannibal pressed in harder, tighter, deeper, pushing himself upright onto his knees as his hands lifted Will's hips to follow after, and continuing the nerve-wracking pace on Will’s prostate.

Will knew he was close to his release, and in this position he could finally reach between them to grab hold of his weeping, swollen erection, squeezing up with every thrust. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

He clenched hard and tight around Hannibal as he pumped his cock, and watched Hannibal throw back his head at the squeezing grip around him. Liquid fire pulsed hot through his wrecked body before he felt it combust behind his eyes and loins, as his muscles started to shake.

“Oh God, Hannibal.”

It was a warning, and one Hannibal picked up on seamlessly as he started fucking into him with steady, deep thrusts that made Will’s fingers clench before his face. He was helpless, mindless, as a harsh yank pulled him right up to heaven.

“Ohhhhh,” he shot his load all over his own quivering abdomen with a cry that was raw and pulled from the tip of his toes, as Hannibal fucked into him with vicious thrusts all the way through his climax, before he too, couldn’t hold on to his control.

Hannibal pushed in hard, fast, as his teeth pressed against Will’s bare calf. He shuddered deep, growling like an animal, and inside his own pleasure, Will could feel himself being filled by warm, wet release.

Their bodies were tight and tense with their shaking orgasms, as their eyes became blind, and their touches frantic. Then, Hannibal slumped heavily against him, nose into his neck, as he remained unmoving on top of Will’s panting chest. 

They stayed, Will’s hands stroking the back of Hannibal's head as he closed his eyes, and breathed through pursed lips.

This...

This was… everything.

“God,” he breathed, as Hannibal hummed against the skin of his throat. “That was... a long time coming.”

A deep exhale warmed his neck, before Hannibal pulled out of his body with a slow drag that made both of them whimper, before he rolled beside Will on the rug.

Will felt the wetness run down his thighs as Hannibal came to spoon behind him, and he wriggled his hips to settle closer.

“It was the right time,” Hannibal spoke against his ear with a grated, raspy voice that made Will’s heart flutter. He turned his head to look at Hannibal as their hands folded on his stomach.

A kiss was placed behind his ear. “I have always hoped and waited for you to find this right for us,” Hannibal told him, as Will closed his eyes and dropped his head against his shoulder.

“Because you never had the courage to make the first move?” he teased, and flushed warm when Hannibal chuckled into his curls.

“You're my match,” Hannibal said. “It would be foolish to underestimate you.”

There was a kiss to Will’s shoulder, as Hannibal tightened his arms around his waist. “I love you,” he spoke against Will skin, and Will felt his throat squeeze tight with sudden emotions that tried to strangle him.

“I love you,” he answered, and squeezed the hands between his.

After that, his neck and back were littered with soft kisses, as they listened to the fireplace crackle. 

“What do you think?” Will said, when he felt Hannibal’s jaw stretch wide with a yawn. “Should we do this every year?” He pushed his head to the side for a teasing glance. “Is this our new Christmas tradition?”

Hannibal huffed in his ear, and Will felt his bare teeth smile against his shoulder blade. “I was planning on taking you to my bed, holding you while we sleep, and have you again tomorrow morning.” He said with both affection and mirth, as Will felt himself buzz with anticipation.

“Tomorrow is still Christmas,” he couldn’t help but push, as Hannibal bit playfully against his neck.

“I plan to do all of that every day, from here on out,” he hummed, and Will released his hands to turn himself in their embrace. Their eyes met warm and playfully.

“Oh, keeping the Christmas spirit throughout the year?” Will said, smiling with his lips against Hannibal’s chin.

“Best to be thorough,” Hannibal agreed, before he pulled Will flush against him and tucked his head in the hollow of his throat.

“Merry Christmas,” Will hummed, happily settling against Hannibal’s skin before he closed his eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wish you ALL a very merry Christmas and a marvelously Happy New Year!!!....with hopefully tons more Hannigram in 2019!! ^.^  
> (And a completion of my fic; Mark me not a Savage! :-P)
> 
> Love you guys more than I could ever say!!!  
> [https://twitter.com/KatherineKrawl](url)


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